


Relief

by jeejaschocolate



Series: Lordly [3]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Ainur doing ainur things, Developing Relationship, Dom/sub Play, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mind Sex, Possessive Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-05
Updated: 2014-10-05
Packaged: 2018-02-20 01:31:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2410094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeejaschocolate/pseuds/jeejaschocolate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is more that Melkor requires, and yet more that Sauron would give him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Relief

**Author's Note:**

> I had to write this (genuinely loving) one because it's been in my head for a while. So, here it is!
> 
> Also, I should probably mention that it might be better to read these stories in order, because there is something of a progression, but it's not absolutely necessary. I like to think that these could all be independent stories on their own because there are varying themes within each of them.

It had become easy. Ever since that time in the forges, Melkor learned how to get Sauron’s attention whenever he desired it. For his part, Sauron responded with an eagerness that made his Vala revel in excitement and satisfaction.  
  
Really, they should have been doing all of this much sooner, in Melkor’s opinion.  
  
Very frequently now, the Vala desired Sauron’s domineering presence in his chambers, and very frequently he was able to procure it without any cost to himself. All he needed to do was ask. But the asking, of course, was covert in its own way. For example, a simple brushing of fingers during a meeting about battle strategy with the rest of Melkor’s court in attendance. Melkor would make certain that Sauron knew the contact was not accidental. His black, ethereal eyes would flash with meaning when the two of them made eye contact. And then Sauron’s lips would curve upward in understanding. That night, for sure, he would be in Melkor’s bed.  
  
There were other ways of ensuring Sauron’s attention: On occasions, in front of the court but when no eyes were on them, Melkor would walk behind Sauron casually, as if his path were unintentional. As he passed Sauron’s back, Melkor would run his hand across the Maia’s neck every so slightly, transmitting a piece of his spiritual energy along with the touch, so that Sauron could get a direct taste of Melkor’s desire straight from the source. The Vala had learned how to do this, how to make Sauron shiver the same way he did to ensure that he would not be denied. Naturally, Sauron was never daunted by this. He would turn around and regard his Vala with a genuine smile, toothy and predatory, to reassure Melkor that yes indeed his lieutenant was just as eager as ever.  
  
Of course there were other times: Private meetings in the forges where the two of them could do whatever it was they wanted. Sauron played out his role as the diligent blacksmith. Melkor would be content on occasion just to sit at Sauron’s feet and watch his Maia at work, resting his head in Sauron’s lap if he grew tired. When finally Sauron’s eyes graced Melkor with a gaze, Melkor felt iridescent, enjoying that one particular feeling he harbored for Sauron. They both gave no name to that feeling, but it was glorious enough to enjoy without words.  
  
The nights they spent together seemed to run on into the infinite. They had coupled so many times. Yet each time, Melkor could not get enough of the way Sauron pinned him down and took him by force, claiming every bit of the Vala for himself. Many times Sauron used his teeth to nip at his lord’s flesh, the fire in his Maia’s eyes literally burning nearby flesh as the flames lapped outward with excitement.  
  
On one such occasion, Melkor found himself laying prone underneath Sauron yet again, completely surrounded by the Maia’s essence and force. The Vala found the knowledge quite comforting that even if he wanted to escape he would not be able to, not bound as he was beneath Sauron’s overwhelming presence. This aroused him and filled him with a molten satisfaction at the same time, so much that Melkor would growl low in his throat the more Sauron pushed into him. He was ready to come but eager for the contact to last as long as possible.  
  
Melkor knew, of course, that Sauron had dominated him completely. The Maia had rendered him entirely dependent upon his most faithful servant, unable to hold back any emotion that came from their union.  
  
And Sauron knew this as well.  
  
“You are mine,” Sauron growled into Melkor’s ear, just as Melkor felt his keening and pining reach a point of no return. “Your body belongs to me.”  
  
“Yes...” Melkor managed to gasp. Why deny the truth? He was happy with the fact on its own.  
  
“Say it.”  
  
“I am yours...” Melkor moaned, bracing himself for climax as he did so. “My body belongs to you--”  
  
They both came then, equally satisfied now that the truth had been spoken.  
  
_____________________________________________________________________  
  
Melkor often dreamed. His physical body was in such a state that it required sleep, especially as time wore on and he found himself weaker with each passing century, eventually with each passing year. He could not explain what was happening to him that caused him to wither so, except that somewhere in his mind he knew he had expended too much of his soul across Arda, across the variety of his creatures, and now he could not withhold any power for himself. Anger and frustration grew in him like a rising current, until such emotions became the only things he knew. Except for his need for Sauron.  
  
Still, Melkor often dreamed. Sleep came to him after coupling with Sauron. This was a kind of physical reaction to the process, Melkor realized, and he grew to expect to fall asleep afterwards almost every time. But sleep was not a respite for him in his lingering anguish, because often Melkor’s dreams turned horrible.  
  
One night he dreamt of the outer realms, of the place he had been conceived by the thought of Eru. He remembered that place, how it had felt and the sounds he had heard there, what unity he had found making music with his fellow Valar. But he could not remember what it felt like to be free of the physical, to exist as a spirit only. In his dream, Melkor wore his physical body while the rest of the Valar looked down upon him in their mighty, unearthly forms. Melkor looked upon them with intense disdain, feeling ashamed that he walked as a mortal would. He was filled with hatred at the fact that the rest of them, who had been so much weaker than him on a time, held themselves above him. In the dream, Melkor hissed and spit upon those floating spirits, swatting at them and attempting to scratch with what nails he had, but their Valarin forms simply convalesced around his hands. Then they floated away until he was alone.  
  
As Melkor stood alone in that realm, his surroundings changed and he found himself in the Voids. That blackness, a darkness he remembered so well from the time he had searched for the Flame Imperishable, enveloped him until he was held aloft by the force of that immaterial energy alone. The dream showed him a fire, mysterious and wonderful, everything he had hoped for, and Melkor reached out his hand to touch it--only to watch as the fire slipped away from him, sinking underneath the shadows around them until there was no trace of it.  
  
Angrily, Melkor thrashed against the energy of the Voids. How he had longed for that Flame, how he had been cheated to lose it when he had come so close...  
  
The more he thrashed, the more the blackness held him firmly in its grasp. Melkor realized that he could not move. He was trapped. Suddenly, intense realization dawned on him that the Voids were his fate, that he would be trapped here for all eternity, until...something...  
  
Was he suffocating? The blackness was an energy unlike anything he had ever felt. And there in his mind’s eye was that fire, taunting him forever, just out of reach...  
  
A scream of helpless frustration and terror tore from his throat. Melkor sat up and fought against the bonds across his chest. His physical body was covered in sweat. Reality settled in his vision and Melkor realized that he had been dreaming and that now he was awake. The bonds against him were Sauron’s own arm. His lieutenant was there with him, of course, for they had spent the night together just prior to the dream.  
  
Sauron sat upright next to him. “Lord Melkor...” the Maia began, a question his voice.  
  
The Vala was panting, his limbs shaking and teeth chattering. He wanted to calm down, to compose himself against the anxiety that had taken over since the dream. After all such visions were not real and he knew that. But it had felt so real...and Melkor could still remember the frustration, the feeling of helplessness...  
  
Then Melkor felt Sauron’s palms pressing down on his shoulders.  
  
“Calm,” Sauron commanded in his usual rough tone. One of the palms snaked downward to rest against Melkor’s sternum, pushing into his chest to force him to take a deep breath.    
  
For a moment, Melkor concentrated on nothing but the breathing. Sauron’s hand guided his chest upward and downward slowly so that he could pace himself. It was good. The Vala felt the warmth of Sauron’s essence creeping around him as well, feeling as if a small blanket covered his clammy skin.  
  
“A dream?” Sauron asked eventually.  
  
Melkor nodded, eyes closed, letting his body settle against the warmth.  
  
Sauron made a quiet sound of understanding. “Hmm. You should not be troubled by such visions. They are only a ruse, a creeping plot of the Valar, of Irmo probably--”  
  
Melkor hissed, interrupting the Maia. He had not shown anger towards Sauron in some time, but right then he was feeling vulnerable, and he wished not at all for Sauron to tell him what he already knew.  
  
Silence fell on them. For a while, they said and did nothing else.  
  
When finally Melkor calmed, he pushed Sauron’s hands away from him chest and turned away. He had not expected to show this particular weakness to his lieutenant, had not intended for anything to pass between them except what had already been done. So Melkor felt a sudden cold anger towards Sauron because the Maia had witnessed such an undeniable truth of Melkor’s existence.  
  
“Lord Melkor,” Sauron said in a soft voice, that same affected tone he used when he knew Melkor was upset. Even though he was angry, Melkor could not deny that that tone had an effect on him. He felt his anger twinge slightly with the desire to let Sauron do whatever he wanted, as had become their dynamic recently.  
  
“Turn and face me.”  
  
So Melkor did. He stared at his lieutenant with a weary expression.  
  
“Tell me everything. What was it you saw in the dream?”  
  
Melkor shook his head. “It is done. I do not wish to give words to it.” Even so, the memory was still very clear in his mind, and Melkor felt that old terror creep back into his limbs. Against his will, a shiver coursed through him.  
  
“You must not harbor these wicked memories for long,” Sauron said. “Do not let them fester in your mind without regard.” The Maia brought his hand up to rest against Melkor’s twitching face. “Give them to me instead.”  
  
“What?” Melkor asked, a strange curiosity rising within him.  
  
“Yes.” Sauron nodded. His face was completely calm and self-assured as ever. “Give me everything you do not want, everything you cannot handle on your own.”  
  
At that, Sauron pressed their foreheads together. Melkor knew then what Sauron desired. The Maia wanted to see into the Vala’s mind to know everything that frightened him, to share in the experience with him so that Melkor would not have to suffer the nightmares alone.  
  
Yet Melkor was not convinced. To allow Sauron to see into his mind was a kind of intimacy they had not yet shared. And his deepest, darkest fears, the fears of a mortal body with a god’s soul...how could he share these things? If Sauron saw into him, then he would see all the things that made Melkor weak. He would know that Melkor’s form was growing still weaker, that his grasp on sanity--on rationality and reality itself--was loosening slowly but surely...that the Vala did not know how much longer he would have control over his thoughts and actions...that each time he committed some violent act of hatred and destruction against the Eldar, he felt as if he were fighting against his own inevitable demise...only to be thwarted in the end by the unchanging state of himself.  
  
“Let me see,” Sauron whispered, his voice soft enough now that Melkor could not help but sigh in response.  
  
“...I cannot...” Melkor managed to say, even though he could of course and was already imagining how it would feel if he did.  
  
“Unburden yourself.” Sauron pressed their foreheads together more firmly.  
  
Alright. Melkor would give into this, only because the terror within him had taken up residence in his very soul and he longed for some kind of relief, even if such a thing was impossible.  
  
So, he opened his mind to Sauron. For a brief moment Melkor was suffused with warmth, feeling Sauron’s spirit reach out to him and then enter him gently. His vision flashed with an image of one of Sauron’s fiery eyes, subsuming everything in his mind for a moment as Sauron rifled through his memories like pages from a book. That blazing eye knew everything now, but Melkor found he was not afraid. Instead, his physical form tingled, feeling an internal kind of companionship, as if he and Sauron had simply sat down and had a long conversation that lasted many years. Or as if there had never been any boundaries between them and the two of them had been intimate since their conception by Eru. Perhaps such things were possible...  
  
When Sauron pulled away, Melkor moaned in pleasure. He had experienced some kind of release with his lieutenant just then, but it was not of his physical body. Indeed, relief coursed through him. The old fear that he known was lessened by a great deal. Melkor forgot his anger and frustration, and loneliness, for the moment.  
  
For his part, Sauron’s face looked haggard. It seemed for a second that the authoritative Maia was genuinely disturbed by some of the things he had seen. Then the moment passed. Sauron shook his head until his features settled into their usual calmness.  
  
“I see,” Sauron said. “Yet, I find it hard to imagine how you were suffering all this at once...”  
  
“Suffering is something I have known for a long time. Now you know, too.” Melkor laid back down on the bed. His relief had given way to comfortable tiredness.  
  
“Yes,” the Maia agreed, stretching his body alongside Melkor’s. “I know. And I will never leave you alone with these thoughts ever again.”  
  
“You wish to see everything from now on?” Melkor asked. An ironic smile played at his lips. He was sure now that he had grown giddy from the ethereal contact, or perhaps he was simply losing his sanity much quicker now...  
  
“Yes. Everything.” Sauron sounded confident. The Maia had already decided on this, it seemed, and would accept nothing less.  
  
Melkor laughed then, at nothing. Sauron found himself smiling in return, elated that his lord had found some kind of relief and was now in much brighter spirits.  
  
“Then everything you shall have,” the Vala said, stroking Sauron’s face with a lingering smile.  
  
And so this too, sharing in the intimate fears borne from an eternity of being the world’s enemy, became a habit between them.

**Author's Note:**

> A lot of the ideas about Melkor here were informed by "Morgoth's Ring," in case anyone was wondering about the characterization there. So many feels. Hope you enjoy the hurt/comfort dynamic as much as I do!


End file.
